Kindling
by Wendish
Summary: A look back at what may have transgressed between Booth and Brennan before there was fire. Set between the Gemma Arrington and Cleo Eller Cases. Two chapters only.
1. Chapter 1: Smoke

Created November 2014 - I don't own these characters or the words made famous by the TV show, Bones. Love them anyway. All the rest that follows is my feeble attempt to keep time in between broadcasts; Razztaztic, Threesquares, and Covalent Bond postings

A/N: 11/2/2014 Phew! Done before Broncos/Pats! I started this snippet back in June. I've tried a few times, but this vignette won't fit with the flow of Collide, so a two-chappie install this is! What a treat it was to get new words this weekend from some of my faves: Covalent Bond, grc73, FaithInBones, Razztaztic, RositaLG and Jazzyproz. No better way to say "thank you", but to share some words of my own! (BTW, November means it's NaNoWriMo, people, let's see some writing!)

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><p><em>Deep breath buddy. Here we go.<em>

Channeling his best soldier-to-civilian courtesy, he greeted "Hello Dr. Brennan."

"Hello Agent Booth" she returned coolly.

He exhaled, thankful for her civility.

_I'm gonna make it through this._

"You, uh, it's nice, uh…you look good."

She blinked. Neither eyebrow arched, but he could detect a subtle widening of her eyes in surprise.

_Shit._

_Fuck._

_Dammit Seeley! You idiot!_

Quickly, Booth defaulted to an apologetic smile. Definitely not his _get-out-of-trouble-with-any-girl_ smile, there was no way that Temperance Brennan would fall for it. She was capricious, this one. Out of his league? Most definitely. His most charming self had failed at ensnaring her before. So the Charm Strategy on The Egghead? Nope, definitely not in his plans.

But neither was that last sentence. Ten words into his apology/pitch, his well-shined, FBI standard-issue shoe had planted itself squarely into his mouth.

_Shit, shit, shit!_

He had been preparing for this moment for weeks, and already he was heading head-first into the helicopter blades. He really needed to clarify and quick.

"Sorry. Heh!" He rubbed his neck. "I guess finally getting to trial on this case has me distracted. You don't look nice, what I meant to say that it's nice to see you." Brennan snorted. Booth smiled briefly before his brain caught up to his mouth. "Shit!"

Brennan celebrated with silent satisfaction that her conclusions about him were indeed correct: Special Agent Seeley Booth was an idiot. An oafish, babbling, bumbling fool.

_An imbecile_.

An imbecile that – yes - she had been irrationally drawn to, obviously because of his crime-solving abilities and – yes – his impressive ranking within the Golden Ratio. That, plus she had been ovulating during their project together, so of course she was more sexually excitable, and forgiving of his intellectual inadequacies. But that was then.

_My conclusions were correct. She surmised._ She thought. _An effective cop. Still a moron._

Booth sighed audibly. "I mean…it's **nice to see you**… _and_ I find your attire and um, _grooming_ to be, uh – admirable – and uh, well-suited for a court appearance."

_Shut up Seeley, you moron!_

_Really? Grooming? Is she a horse?_

Brennan's brow furrowed as she surveyed her ensemble. She was curious at the standard against which he was measuring her, especially given his inability to formulate a cogent sentence. She was wearing separates of course, purchased at a time way before the effects of diet she maintained on her most recent dig. She knew that she was beautiful, but she was certain that she wasn't his type, which she assumed was of the ex-cheerleader variety. But yet he had wanted her once. He even returned after she spurned him, breaking all sorts of social norms.

_What was it about this man?_

Booth watched Brennan assess her own attire thankful for a moment to regroup. Begrudgingly, he dismissed the thought of taking her away to The Royal to buy her a burger and some pie. She did look nice, in a way that only Temperance Brennan could pull off. Neutral tones, clunky shoes and a clunky necklace to match. Loose strands of hair emancipated from an afterthought of a ponytail.

Brennan accepted that she looked acceptable. As put together as one could expect of an absent-minded genius who didn't care about such things.

If she could have read Seeley Booth's mind, she'd learn that he found her to be _fucking adorable._ But she could not, she did not understand this man one bit.

Looking back up, Brennan found his eyes round and brown and warm.

And his cheeks were flushed.

_Relax man. Focus!_

He shoved his hands in his pockets thankful for the anchor of Pop's lighter and his poker chip. Briefly, he looked away, nervously surveying the surrounding fray before resettling his gaze back to her.

Brown eyes bored into blue, and for the both of them, the frenzied pace of the courthouse bustle suddenly faded around them. All there was, was each other and the three feet between them as they circled each other.

Locked in a staring contest.

A quarter of a minute, perhaps a half, passed as they silently regarded each other, both of them utterly perplexed at why the other was so disarming.

The sniper was first to blink. Twitchy hands moved from Booth's pockets to his hips, his poker chip rolling between the fingers of his right hand.

"Let me start again. It's nice to see you Dr. Brennan. You look well."

She sniffed.

Booth relaxed, finding himself somewhat amused by her silence. Finally, he realized - he liked it that he bugged her. _She's still mad, _he concluded, risking a brief grin. _Just go with it._

The sight of his grin aroused her, which annoyed her. _Scoundrel_, she sneered. _He thinks he knows me, he thinks that with one smile, all will be forgiven. It is a lovely smile. He is very handsome of course….Shit, I must stop thinking about that. Why is __**he**__ so distracting to me? Ugh! I can't do this, where's Angela?_ Brennan looked away, in search of quarter.

Booth was about to start Attempt 4 to engage her, but he was thwarted by an overly-dramatic throat clearing coming from the direction of Brennan's gaze.

Quickly, the hyperaware sniper zoned in on Angela Montenegro, noting that the scientist's pal was throwing Brennan some serious eyebrow. Nearby Angela stood a frowning Zach Addy and Hodgins (who actually seemed more interested in the cut of Angela's skirt than that which was obviously Angela's focus). Booth offered the motely trio a curt nod, before returning his attention back to Brennan, who was apparently being silently urged by her girlfriend to speak with him.

_Was she blushing? Or fuming?_

Either way, it was now Brennan who was making every effort to mask her uneasiness. With a quick sigh, she reestablished eye contact. "I…I didn't realize that you may be here," she lied. "Are you testifying today?"

"Yeah. Well, that's the plan. Not sure when Caroline plans on calling me though."

"Caroline?"

"Caroline Julian? The prosecutor?"

"Ms. Julian. Yes, of course. I didn't realize how familiar you were with everyone."

"Well, we've worked together some. Get along pretty well. Well, that is until I took her office." He chuckled. In the crowd milling about the hallway, he located the frowning – recently displaced – federal prosecutor speaking with Deputy Director Cullen, Charlie and Mrs. Arrington.

This time, Brennan followed Booth's gaze. As she regarded them, Booth stole a moment to admire the beautiful scientist in profile.

Her nose crinkled in confusion. "You took her office?"

"Long story. Look, Dr. Brennan, I never had the chance to express my gratitude for your participation on the case – "

"Because during our last interaction, you unnecessarily manhandled me, and I vowed that I would never work with you again." Brennan turned backed to him, face painted with calculated dispassion.

Booth sighed.

_And here's the hill to climb._

**_This_** was what he had expected. He didn't know her well, but he was certain that Temperance Brennan didn't make _anything_ easy for _anyone_. He tried to read her. Her eyes were wide and wild and beautiful and her lips were curved into a brief, but apparent Cheshire smirk. He allowed himself to be taken momentarily by her defiant glare before he continued.

"I deserved that." He chuckled sheepishly, his nervous hands sliding from his pockets to his hips.

All of his seemingly random movements distracted Brennan. Unapologetically, her eyes travelled down to his well-formed mid-section, and although she was fully intent on devoting her gawk to the flat, well-muscled plane that teased from behind the crisp dress shirt and tie, it was _the tie_ that caught her attention. She realized that what she had initially mistook as a random geometric pattern of white shapes that spilled into a pile at the base of the black tie, were – in fact – a rainfall of bones. She dipped her face to hide the grin betraying her face.

Booth hadn't noticed. "Look, I'd like to apologize for grabbing you like that, Dr. Brennan. I was out of lin-…what?" he inquired.

"Your tie." Without pause, she reached out to grab the blade of his tie, not realizing (or maybe so) that Booth was attached to it.

Brennan stepped closer to examine – with both hands – the tie while Booth stepped closer not to choke. And, while both of their heads immediately tilted down toward the tie, Booth's head shot up immediately for fear that he would drown in her. But it was too late, his nostrils were flooded with her scent and his head throbbed with the memory of that kiss had tormented him since. That visceral moment: how she tasted and felt in his grasp. That signature formula of vanilla, mint, tequila and… her…exclusively Temperance Brennan, mixed with the heady scent of petrichor in the evening air.

Many shots of tequila erased with that kiss. A kiss that sobered him up _and _intoxicated him all over again.

And, _dammit she's that close again._

Attempting to look everywhere but down, Booth's face began to warm as he caught glimpses of amused and surprised looks from various corners of the courthouse hallway – Angela Montenegro's triumphant beam; Caroline's "I told you so" smirk; Zack's perplexed pout; Charlie's look of panic (as he tried to distract Director Cullen from the scene). Other faces observed the pair – unknown faces – men and women, alike, all seemingly interested in the draw between these two very handsome people. To Booth, he felt like all eyes were on them.

Except Cullen, thank God.

And Hodgins. Still focused out Angela's legs.

"While I can't be exact, there seem to be more skulls than there are skeletons that attach to them." She mumbled, engrossed with her count. "And proportionately, more long bones represented than anything else." She smoothed the tie against his chest as she returned her attention to his face.

Booth squirmed as her hand slid down his body. Unsettled, he gently grabbed her hand, momentarily forgetting his Strategy of Formality and Aloof Politeness.

"Bones! Will ya stop touching me?" he hissed. "People are watching!"

Surprised, she questioned "What?" Looking around, she saw no audience, but matched Booth's whisper. "I'm just trying to examine your olive branch! It's obvious that you want me to."

Gob smacked, he took the next few seconds to consider her meaning. He knew that she was mostly literal, and he had observed her failed attempts at metaphors. Now was not the time for him to misread her.

Or have her grabbing his "olive branch". Though admittedly, the thought had crossed his mind more than a few times.

Realizing that she had confused him, Brennan clarified. "I decided that I would be civil to you at least until after this project, should we encounter each other. After speaking with Angela, Dr. Goodman and Ms. Julian, I've come to acknowledge that I may have reacted in an equivalently immature and barbaric manner. And," she sighed, "were I to reflect upon the sum total of our interactions, I would find that you deserve the benefit of the doubt."

The begrudging sincerity of her disclosure charmed him. "I do? Yeah?"

"Yes!" she returned breathily. Eying him cautiously, she continued. "Angela went on to suggest that – given the chance – you would embrace the opportunity to apologize…to extend an olive branch. Am I incorrect that this skeleton tie is such a gesture?"

Booth relaxed. "The tie! Yeah! It is! Phew! For a minute there, I thought you were coming onto me." He blurted.

"What?" she scoffed.

"Well, you know…examining my 'olive branch'?" he whispered conspiratorially from the corner of his mouth. "You don't seem to be too good with the metaphors, and where your hand was going.…"

Finally, Brennan realized that she and Booth were still holding hands. She yanked her hand away as if Booth's was on fire. "What! That's ridicul-"

The doors of one of the courtrooms burst open. A flurry of people spilled out, while a rash of reporters charged toward them.

"Ms. Taffet! Ms. Taffet! Would you care to comment on the judge's ruling? Ms. Taffet! What impact will this have on future internet piracy cases?"

The frenzy of bodies swelled in the suddenly cramped space, and Brennan was pushed forcibly into Booth, who was in turned, slammed to the wall.

"Whoa! Hold on!" he warned as he cloaked her body with his massive arms. Brennan pressed into Booth, curiously peering over her shoulder to ascertain the scene unfolding behind her. Swarms of reporters crowded the hall all desirous to get a comment from the ginger-haired prosecutor.

"Fucking reporters" he snarled. "Can't stand them."

"Who's that?" Brennan husked against Booth's neck. He squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to remain honorable as her body softened against his.

"Um, new federal prosecutor. I hear she's big on information protection crimes. Internet stuff. Kind of a loaner. Never worked with her. From what I hear, I'm not impressed. My gut tells me she's not my cup of tea."

Brennan snorted as the waves of reporters continued to flow toward the outer hallway, still not giving yield to her own personal space. She barely had space to lean back to look at the agent eye-to-eye. "Do you consistently take advice from your intestinal track?"

He couldn't resist growling at her. "Yes, Dr. Brennan. I do. My instincts have gotten me this far. I've survived more than a few tight spots."

Her eyes grew bright with curiosity. He took a dangerous step. "Do you know what they tell me about you?"

She bristled, mildly offended that he was about to insult her. "That I'm not you're cup of tea?"

Booth smiled sweetly. "Heh! Just the opposite Bones. They tell me that you're the real deal."

The flecks of honey in his eyes transformed to black as he stared her down. Though the fray had fanned out, Brennan found herself willfully frozen in the agent's arms as she tried to interpret his meaning. She placed her hands on his arms, slowly pushing away his right – the hand that had brutishly snatched her out of the FBI conference room. But his left hand – the hand that had so masterfully scaled the contours of her torso as their dueling tongues tangled with the rain, (albeit too briefly) - she let linger. This hand, she liked.

"You're brilliant and talented…and I would never be this close to putting Hasty away were it not for you and your team. Bones, you're pretty incredible, and you're due way better than my behavior illustrated. You deserve my respect and appreciation. And for that, I'm sorry for being a jerk."

"Oh" she eeked out, almost unwillingly. "I accept" she offered softly. "But don't call me Bones."

"Sorry." He chuckled back. "Dr. Brennan, please accept my apology."

It was then that he saw it in her eyes: she too was struggling with her memory of _that_ evening. Though he had no doubt they _would never_ be doing that again, he used it to his advantage. "Dr. Brennan. I-"

"Well! What do we have here?" piped the spirited federal prosecutor. "You two kissed and made up? Decided to go steady?" Caroline Julian had approached the pair, and was now centered in the very limited space that stood between the scientist and the agent.

Booth chuckled dismissively as Brennan quickly repelled away from Booth. "I don't want to have sex with him anymore." Brennan blurted, tugging at the base of her jacket.

Caroline's hmph-in-progress was halted as she caught up with the last phrase. "Anymore?" she sang. "Dr. Brennan, are you a writer?"

Confused by the question, Brennan looked first at Ms. Julian, then to Booth, then back to Ms. Julian. Responding thoughtfully, she stated "No. Well, I write articles for science journals, papers on research that I've done, materials for my students…"

Caroline smirked, mildly amused by the quirky scientist with the obvious crush. "Hmph, the way you put on, I believe you may have a successful career writing fiction ahead of you!" Shifting her sass toward Booth, she continued, "You must be losing your touch with the young ones, Agent Talk-Dark-and-Broody.**_ I_** still love you, Cher."

"Caroline, stop!" Booth groaned while – with fascination – Brennan studied the colorful prosecutor.

"Get your game faces on Cheries. We're up next. We've got another ten or fifteen minutes before the courtroom airs out from the stench of that one." She motioned toward Federal Prosecutor Taffet.

"What? Is she not your cup of tea?" Brennan questioned, pleased that she had mastered the use of this new phrase so soon. Behind her, Booth rolled his eyes.

"Not one bit, Cherie. A dark cloud hangs over that one. Dr. Brennan could you get your people over here? Y'all are a whole new breed of nerd to deal with, I'd like to make sure they're prepared to give testimony."

"My people are prepared." Brennan defended with a whine. "We've given testimony several times before already, Ms. Julian."

"Not in one of my cases, Cherie. And none that you've won." She grumbled, rolling her eyes. "Now, get your people."

Sighing, Brennan turned noting that her cohorts were distracted by the throng of reporters still surrounding the other prosecutor. "Angela!" _(nothing)_. "Zack!" _(nothing)._ "Hodgins!" she called out, finally able to successfully get someone's attention. Hodgins acknowledged Brennan's call and rounded up his coworkers.

Incidentally, Brennan's call also caught the attention of Ms. Taffet, who watched as Hodgins, Zack and Angela moved towards Caroline. Although she was still speaking with reporters, her eye caught the heated glare from her colleague, who seemed none too pleased to offer her a reluctant nod of acknowledgement. Special Prosecutor Taffet nodded back with a brief smile, all the while her eyes surveying the klatch of people who began to surround The Alpha Prosecutor in the DOJ, especially one Dr. Jack Hodgins.

When Taffet looked away, Caroline's curt nod quickly transformed into a more genuine scowl. "_Mauvaise nouvelle__!" _she hissed under her breath before turning to her gaggle of geeks. "Okay people, here's what's gonna happen…"

Obediently, the cop, the artist and the two and a half scientists gathered around to receive instructions from Caroline.

"Agent Booth? A word?"

Brennan turned to see a tall older gentleman summoning Booth, someone who she didn't recognize. It was the same man that she had seen speaking earlier with Mrs. Arrington. He was still speaking with the younger, shorter (approximate 167-170 cm. tall) man, with dark hair…perhaps she had encountered him before? Both appeared in standard issue FBI attire. The older man, Brennan assumed, was of some stature, as Ms. Julian excused Booth without protest.

As Ms. Julian spoke, Brennan couldn't help but be distracted by the attractive agent, though she told herself (and Angela later) that she was simply curious about the conversation. Even though she had taken firm and decisive steps to put her brief dalliance with Seeley Booth in her rear view mirror, being in each other's presence again – and so closely – was unsettling.

Further abetting her emotional swirl was the unexpected fits of excitement she felt as Agent Booth reciprocated with stolen glances of his own. Though he gave respectful attention to the two men with whom he was speaking, he seemed to be giving her equal attention. Each time Brennan peeked, she found his eyes on her, a circumstance which left her initially curious, then stimulated; then frustrated, and finally indignant.

By the time that Ms. Julian had finished providing whatever instructions that Brennan didn't hear, Booth's attentiveness had Brennan worked up into quite the lather. She liked to control her emotions, and this man was stirring up things in her that she had no intention of setting free. She needed to set Booth straight, to tell him that she had moved on. She, however, was unfortunately delayed as Booth set toward her with his two associates. She bit the inside of her lip to quell her mounting irritation, setting it aside for the next moment alone that she could get with him.

_Dammit, _she chastised herself as her imagination flashed a very physical, very sexual vision of a moment alone with him, contrary to her rational intentions.

Booth approached, a look of formality set in his eyes. "Dr. Temperance Brennan? I'd like you to meet Deputy Director Sam Cullen and Agent Charlie Burns."

She offered a reluctant hello. "Deputy Director Cullen, hello. Agent Burns? It's my understanding that you will be our point of contact in liaison with the FBI Forensics team on future projects?"

Booth's jaw dropped, surprised by the reveal. "Yes ma'am." Charlie stated shaking her hand, eyeing Booth nervously. "I look forward to our collaboration."

"I would expect that you would." Brennan affirmed.

"I have to say Dr. Brennan, based upon the feedback from Special Agent Booth, Ms. Julian, and yourself, I'm surprised that you didn't want to work with Agent Booth."

"I won't work with him again." Brennan stated plainly.

Cullen looked between the disappointed red-faced agent and the frumpy, but very attractive young scientist. "…and yet, you provided such a glowing recommendation in support of his promotion…?"

Again, Booth was surprised by the disclosure. He looked at Brennan, who would obviously have preferred that he not be aware of that fact.

"Yes. Although our work styles conflict, I find that Agent Booth is more than capable at his job, almost exemplary. He is an asset to the Bureau and deserves to be rewarded accordingly" she explained, turning to Agent Booth. "And it's my understanding that, with your new promotion, you will be working on more high profile projects?"

All eyes turned to Booth, who was still recovering. "Uh, yes ma'am. Cases, not projects. I'll be-"

"Come on people, it's show time!" Caroline called out.

Deputy Director Cullen chuckled. "Well, that's my cue. Dr. Brennan, the Bureau thanks you for your service, it's a pleasure to meet you. Booth, thanks for the introductions. Good luck to the both of you today. Burns? Let's go."

Brennan nodded as she again shook the hands of both agents. She smirked, feeling certain that she detected what could only be described as a glare and a cower between Booth and Agent Burns. Once the pair had turned into an adjoining hallway, Booth stepped toward Brennan.

"You vouched for me?"

Brennan fidgeted. "Yes."

"I don't know what to say, Bones, thank you. I-"

"Agent. Booth." Caroline's tone warned of waning patience.

"We should go." Brennan suggested, relieved by Ms. Julian's interruption. "Stop calling me Bones."

* * *

><p>It was 4:22 PM. Booth had finished his testimony shortly after noon, but he had to stay. He needed to speak with Brennan. She had thrown him for a loop.<p>

_She vouched for me, but doesn't want to work with me. Does she maybe want to go out?_

_She said that she didn't want to sleep with me again, but maybe she was embarrassed by Caroline. Caroline does that._

_Shit, I can't remember a bit of my testimony. Caroline didn't looked pissed though, I guess it was fine. Why did Bones have to sit right behind where Caroline was standing? There's something about this girl…_

_She liked the tie._

_Heh, olive branch._

"Have you been here the whole time?"

Booth dropped his poker chip, startled by the interruption. Quickly picking it up, he gazed up to see her standing before him.

"Uh, yeah. I just wanted to see how things went with your testimony."

"Well, then why weren't you in the courtroom listening to it?" she questioned.

He explained, "Well, I had some calls to make back to the office." One of those calls was to his so-called buddy Charlie, who he reamed for the lack of heads up about the that Cullen had agreed to. _Fucking Charlie._

"I see."

"Um, we were cut off before I could sincerely thank you for your kind words to the Bureau about me." Suddenly Charlie - _**his direct report**_ - was a font of information about what had gone on over the past few weeks with Brennan, Goodman and Cullen, and the conditions of his promotion. "Charlie, uh, Agent Burns told me that you were very persuasive and supportive of my promotion."

Brennan stifled a smile. "Well, it was as I said before, you are effective at your job."

"But you don't want to work with me." He stepped toward her.

"No." she held her ground.

"I'm not sure if you were aware, but I had proposed a joint task force: a special unit of major crimes, FBI forensics and the experts at the Jeffersonian…"

"Yes, I'm aware of your proposal. You basically wanted to leverage the experts at the Jeffersonian as if we were some form of FBI science-themed secretarial pool. I would not sign off on that." She stepped toward him.

"Whoa. No, that was not my intent-"

"The idea had good bones, but I think it's just better if our scientists work with your scientists. Agent Burns can facilitate things administratively."

Booth chuckled.

"What?" she asked uneasily, not sure of what she had said that was humorous.

"Good bones."

"Yes, it's a metaphor."

"I know it's a metaphor. Like I said earlier, I didn't think you were so good at them. Leave it to Bones to be dead on with her metaphorical use of the word 'bones'."

Against her will, she smiled, letting him get away with calling her _that name_.

"So you accept my apology?"

"Yes. And you accept mine?"

"Yes. But you won't work with me?"

"No."

Booth grinned hopefully, taking another step toward her. Brennan copied the action.

"So you won't work with me," he slid his hands into his pockets. "Does this mean that I can take you out for a cup of coffee? Maybe a burger? Perhaps a nice dinner? No less than three courses, perhaps?"

Brennan smiled, crossing her arms. "So you still want to sleep with me?"

"Hey, I'm just offering a meal here Dr. Brennan," he licked his lips as his eyes dropped to hers. "who knows what happens next. Especially since you told Caroline that you didn't want to sleep with me anymore." He teased.

"Perhaps I misspoke." Her voice was raspy and she could feel her cheeks blush with arousal.

Booth stepped another step toward her. Only inches separated the pair.

_How bad for my career would it be if I pulled her up against this wall?_ He wondered as his mind rapidly processed his knowledge of all the known rooms, alcoves and exits of the courthouse.

But in an instant, something changed in Brennan's posture. A flash of a thought that immediately evidenced itself on her face: guilt. She forced herself back from the magnetic draw of this man. "I'm sorry." She blurted, suddenly nervous about disappointing him. She _never _felt this way and she didn't like it.

"I'm seeing someone." she explained. "We have been dating for some time, quite successfully…"

"Oh!" Booth nodded, stepping away from her to a platonic distance. "I see. Well, cheers on that. I wish you two the best."

"Thanks." She mumbled, confused that she felt guiltier about not telling Booth sooner than she was about potentially cheating on the man that she just agreed to let move in with her. "I still would have like to have slept with you…"

Her awkwardness warmed him. He laughed, "I get it, I screwed up my chance." From his pocket, he pulled the poker chip, and tossed it in the air. "Whoever he is, he's a lucky guy."

"Thanks." Brennan offered sheepishly, pursing her lips.

"Well. I guess I should be heading back to the office now." He announced.

"Oh. Yes, okay. I suppose I will wait for my associates. It was good to see you Agent Booth."

"You too, Dr. Brennan." He extended his hand out to her.

Brennan looked at his hand, completely unsatisfied that this would be the close of their interactions. She slipped her soft hand into his and met his firm grip with her own. "If things don't work out…"

Booth's eyebrows raised in surprise. Brennan cursed herself, searching for a quick recovery. "I mean, with the arrangement with our teams…"

Booth nodded, certain that she was backtracking "Yes?"

"Yes, well. Should I direct any constructive feedback about our arrangement to Deputy Director Cullen, Agent Burns, or you?"

Booth smiled knowingly. "Let me speak with Cullen, Dr. Brennan, I'll get back to you on that."

"Okay, good."

"But know that you can call me anytime. Okay? I'd love the opportunity to see you, to work with you again." He handed her his card, his fingers lingering on her own before the transfer.

"Thank you." She said quietly, reaching into her jacket pocket to stow his card, and retrieve one of her own. "Let me give you mine-"

He held up his hands as he began to walk away. "No worries, Dr. Brennan. I've got your number."

* * *

><p>AN #2: Back in June, I had a conversation with someone about cursing somebody out in French Creole, and they shared the phrase: "_Va-t'em, espèce de calyspon, va" with me. Now for the life of me, I can't find the notes if the phrase is 1) accurate and 2) WTF it means. Any help out there is appreciated!_


	2. Chapter 2: Smolder

Created November 2014 - I don't own these characters or the words made famous by the TV show, Bones. Love them anyway. All the rest that follows is my feeble attempt to keep time in between broadcasts; Razztaztic, Threesquares, and Covalent Bond postings

A/N: 11/16/2014 - Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"It might be too cool to walk. I could call a cab…" Booth eyed her protectively. Neither of them was used to speaking so openly about the other, and they had spent the whole afternoon with Sweets. If he felt what he was feeling, he was terrified of what was going on in her head.<p>

"No let's walk." Brennan said quietly. "I'm sure that it's not too cold outside."

"Okay." Booth watched his partner as they descended in the elevator. Her head leaned against the wall as she stared off into space. He knew what she was doing. She was recounting what had just transpired in Sweets' office, trying to make sense of what the three of them had just discussed.

"Hey." He said softly. "What's wrong?"

She turned to look at him, a look of questioning on her face. "We lied to Sweets, Booth."

"What! No, we didn't lie to him, we just didn't tell him everything, Bones. He doesn't need to know everything."

Brennan stood up straight, turning toward him. "No Booth, we lied. Well, I lied and then you lied to support my lie. You didn't correct me."

He slipped his hands in his pockets, his trench sweeping behind him. He stepped toward her. "Well, him knowing doesn't change how things panned out, does it? He hit on all the big themes in the book, no?"

"I suppose so."

The pair exited the building and headed down the Sandburg stairs.

* * *

><p>"You know what <em>you really need<em>?" Angela suggested, more than asked. "Sex."

Brennan gasped in surprise. Angela usually had such excellent instincts about things, but this was…way, way off. "Angela, I assure you, I am not lack for sex. Peter and I maintain quite an active and rigorous sex life. In fact, I don't feel it to be hyperbolic when I say that it's not possible for us to have more physical relations than we do."

Angela sighed at her brilliant, but obtuse friend. "I'm sure that's true, Honey. But I'm talking about the book?" She held up the manuscript for emphasis. "The forensics is fascinating, for sure, but this as it is written right now, this will only have appeal to a small population of eggheads. You're trying to introduce science and technology to a whole new demographic, right?"

"Well, that would be ideal. Dr. Goodman says that the new leadership on the Jeffersonian board is strongly encouraging the museum heads to broaden the marketability of our work in an effort to appeal to donators. As one of the Jeffersonian's marquee scientists, I'm trying to do my part to ensure that our department is consistently well-funded."

Angela smiled triumphantly. "Then listen to me, Honey. You need characters…and your characters need sex. Trust me! Blue bloods love the sex. If you mix all this macabre brainy science with characters and sexy? You will have a best seller on your hands! A best seller will mean acclaim, and maybe a request for a sequel. A sexy best seller will attract the blue blood donators to the Jeffersonian. Win-win! I will l say it again: blue bloods will love the sex! Sweetie, did I ever tell you how I bankrolled my last trip to Paris?"

"How?" Brennan's curious eyes were alit with fascination.

Angela grinned smugly. "I was commissioned to do a set of erotic panels for the winter home of a Belgian prince."

"Really?" Brennan marveled. She loved to live vicariously through the exotic tales of Angela Montenegro's artist-slash-party girl journey.

Angela shook her head. "Yes. And he was so impressed, he invited me to stay with him that winter so that he could showcase me and my work to his other ritzy snowbird friends. I made a killing. The sex wasn't too bad either." She winked.

The two outcasts shared a traditionally girly giggle. "If I was writing about your experiences, I'm certain that I would have a best seller." Brennan finally sighed, a hint of hopelessness in her voice. Like her friend, Brennan too had forged her own path with independent hubris, yet with a dramatically different, often lonely backstory. "The forensics is a reflection upon my actual experiences Angela. It's what I know."

Angela frowned. "But there were _other people involved_ in your experiences, Sweetie. In this entire story, you've only given name to your protagonist and the killer. Everyone else involved is "the facial reconstruction expert, the FBI investigator, the district attorney. It's impersonal."

"But giving them identities is irrelevant to the outcome of the case."

"Yeah, but they will help you build a plot around the case and all your super-science. It also gives the readers some context about how they should feel about Kathy. Yeah, she's a brilliant scientist who is really good at figuring things out. But she's got no layers, no depth, no personality, she loves no one and no one loves her. Are people supposed to like her? Are we supposed to root for her? How does she feel about the people she works with? How do they feel about her? From what you've got so far I can't tell."

If she blinked, Angela would have missed the flinch, but she saw it. Brennan bit her lip as she struggled to keep an even tone. "Is that what people think of me?" she asked quietly.

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit…._Angela jumped up from her chair to sit next to her friend.

"Shit, Bren! No! Not at all! Honey, I'm talking about Kathy!" Angela placed her arm around the stiff figure. In the short period of their friendship, she had learned how quickly Temperance Brennan could infer the wrong conclusions. "You are not Kathy! Sure you're brilliant and all that, but you're so much more!" Angela paused to gauge her friend's level of pain. Brushing the hair out of Brennan's face, she continued. "You're incredible, Bren. You're gorgeous, passionate, and sexy as hell. Yes, you're quirky and blunt, and you can be awkward, but mostly, you're earnest, principled and fearless. Shit, you're practically a superhero!"

Brennan smiled at her friend's irrational characterization, finally allowing a tear to escape. "That's silly, Angela."

"Well, I may be silly, but I'm also lucky to have a friend like you." Angela grabbed her hand. "You have so much depth, Honey. You're just very selective about who you let see your layers."

"Angela…" Brennan sang, her expression flush with her appreciation of Angela's accolades.

"Shush! I know you feel the same about me, so we're even." Angela teased. Knowing that Brennan didn't like to linger on emotional topics, she continued. "Now, back to the book, Sweetie. All I'm saying is, think of the science as the skeletal structure that holds your story together. But remember, human beings aren't just bones, they're flesh and blood too."

Brennan nodded slowly, beginning to comprehend Angela's inference.

"Let the characters warm up them bones!" she teased. "Give Kathy some friends and conflict and some nookie! Let your imagination run wild! I've read some of your short stories, Bren. You're a great storyteller."

Brennan squirmed uneasily. Angela Montenegro was the first person with whom she had ever shared her writing. For years, Brennan's creative writing and her imagination kept her company as the rest of the world existed around her.

In Angela, Brennan felt as if – however irrational the thought - one of her characters brought to life. Someone smart and creative, full of life and opinions and truth. Someone who enjoyed spending time with her. Someone who saw beyond her perceived social impediments. Angela was special.

Brennan had been vigilant for when Angela would reveal a darker side (as had everyone else in her life before), but it never came. So for now, Brennan resigned herself to enjoy the intimacy of their friendship. A friendship contingent upon their mutual respect and honesty with each other.

"Use your talent, Honey. This doesn't have to be autobiographical. Think about some of the greatest books ever written. The ones I'm thinking about gave life to something unique and thought-provoking. Something to make you _feel_. Tell me, what is your favorite book?"

Brennan thought for a moment. "Well, I read extensively, so there are many books that I enjoy, but I would have to say that I always enjoy Isaac Newton's _Principia_…"

Angela stared blankly at her best friend. With a deep breath she tried again. "Okay, well I love a good math and physics read as much as the next girl, but I was thinking of something from the fiction genre. Bren, have you ever enjoyed anything of the flesh-and-bones type? Anything thing of the this-century variety? Something that I may have read?"

Brennan reset, processing Angela's question. "Oh! Well, not this century, but I've always been fond of Bronte's Jane Eyre."

Angela smiled, immediately recognizing the themes that would be appealing to Brennan. "Okay, well there you go! Definitely a vanguard heroine for her time! Nice! So tell me, if you were to imagine Kathy as a heroine for _our_ time, what would that look like?"

Brennan smiled. "I think that I understand."

* * *

><p>His howl of pleasure was low, long and throaty as he held her tightly to him. As if all of their mutual strength had been sapped, they collapsed unceremoniously to the bed.<p>

"Woo! Ooooof!" he sighed, sated and completely exhausted. He lay on top of her, their sweaty bodies still melded together in delightful afterglow. His hands remained curled around her waist, trapped between her body and the bed as he peppered her neck, shoulder and cheek with thankful kisses. "Tempe, have I told you how much I love Thursdays?

Brennan's body vibrated with laughter, amused by the lilty octaves his voice had taken. "No."

"Well I do!" he asserted, nipping at her earlobe before turning them both and pulling her to lay on their sides. He clung to her in their spoon, leaning his cheek to rest on hers. "These past few weeks of Thursdays, you have been insatiable! Damn, girl! I think I blacked out at one point…"

"I have?" she shifted, beginning to feel a little constrained by his grasp.

He made nothing of her ignoring his comment. It was not the first time, definitely not the last. "Hells yeah! Ever since you started going to those synergy meetings at the FBI, you come home so ravenous to fuck!" He nudged her with his hips. "And I'm only too happy to oblige my little porn star." He whispered conspiratorially. "I can barely keep up Temperance, and I'm not complaining."

"Mmmmph." Brennan squirmed uneasily as Peter's tongue teased against her neck. Suddenly, the feel of his body against hers was suffocating. She turned her face toward his, causing him to halt his actions. "Peter, the sheets!" she warned. "Can you take go take care of…?"

"Right! Of course! Sure thing!" he agreed as he released her and slipped out of the bed.

Brennan sat up in the bed, her thoughts racing about the live-in physicist's comment. In reflection, Peter was indeed correct – during this past month, she had been extremely solicitous of his physical attention upon her return to her (note: not theirs, _her)_ apartment after her Thursday meetings at the FBI.

"I bet it's because you get to rip those suits a new one!" he called out from the bathroom. "It must feel great for you to boss those bureaucrats around some, especially given your past history with government agencies…."

Brennan rolled her eyes as she got out of the bed. As much as she enjoyed her close friendship with Angela, in direct proportion, she had come to loathe that Peter knew as much as he did about her past and consistently used it as a means to try and "relate" to her.

It was becoming clearer to her: the relationship experiment was failing. She had theorized that if she identified a male with whom she had sexual and intellectual compatibility, she could comfortably emulate the façade of a happy couple, thus eliminating her eligibility to be pursued by other men.

_One specific man_, though she would never admit it.

But something was missing in the Tempe-Peter dynamic, and to her utter frustration, she feared that it was an emotional connection that created the void between them. Temperance Brennan was not interested in the fickleness of emotions. Emotions were messy and fleeting, and…ephemeral. _Yes, ephemeral_, she told herself. She had devoted way too much effort to reconstructing and reinforcing her defenses from ever being hurt again. She reasoned that her friendship with Angela availed her enough intimacy. Romantic and familial love was not in the cards.

Not that she would ever be at risk of falling in love with Peter, whom she found to be quite insipid. Were it not for his advanced physicality, she would have ejected him from her home already. But having Peter in her life had merit.

Especially on Thursdays.

She rose from the bed, put on her robe and headed toward her computer, continuing to ignore Peter's incessant blathering in the bathroom. She was realizing that she may have a problem: Agent Seeley Booth. That infuriating, confounding know-it-all cop who insisted on battling with her every Thursday afternoon.

_And how wonderful it made her feel. _

Ugh! It frustrated her – how week after week, he easily he convinced the room of scientists to agree to his recommendations for process improvements between FBI forensics and the Medico-Legal lab. Given the direct impact on resources under her domain, she agreed to participate in the synergy meetings designed to improve the collaboration between the government agencies. Much to her irritation, she found the entire project to be another intricate ruse to lure her into a room with _him_.

Though the pair had covered the hatchet, Brennan continued to battle Booth's solicitations for her direct support on cases. Thankfully, Zack had successfully obstructed the rule-evading agent's unyielding (albeit flattering) pursuit of her. She felt as if he was trying to consume her. She would eventually credit Booth for being the inspiration of the weasels who consume the first body in her story. But for now, she couldn't wait for these series of meetings to complete.

It had never occurred to her to simply send Dr. Goodman or Zack in her place.

So every Thursday, inevitably, the group of eight representatives from each institution would dissipate until the only the "Bickering B's" remained, reined and muzzled solely by the artful redirects of Agent Charlie Burns. And so, after a month or so of Thursdays, times sixteen government employees, times two hours per person per week, the goals of "synergy" had devolved into yet another example of wasteful government attrition.

_Attrition. _

_The act of exhausting._

_Friction._

_The act of rubbing together._

* * *

><p><em>"The work structure will remain as is. All Jeffersonian interaction with the FBI will channel through Zack and Agent Burns." She declared. <em>

_"Dr. Brennan." Booth started. "Please consider this from an efficiency perspective. You insist on reviewing and approving all case work that comes into and leaves the Jeffersonian. Your team members relay it to Zack. Zack relays it to you. You take the…" he hesitated as he withheld the phrase he was thinking (sweet-ass) "time that you need, before you turn it back over to Zack, to turn over to Charlie and Marcus-"_

_"Who is Marcus?"_

_Booth turned to Charlie in disbelief before turning back to Brennan. "Marcus is our lead forensics technician. He sits next to you during these meetings? On the right?" _

_With one sniff, Brennan dismissed Booth's shocked visage at her non-recognition. Booth looked at Charlie again before clearing his throat. "Okay, let me come at this a different way. Let's just say that we've got layers of inefficient information routing to eliminate on our end, too. It would be so much easier for us to have peer-to-peer interaction."_

_"Are you saying that you want me to work directly with this Marcus person? What are his credentials?"_

_A knock on the glass door caught their attention. Charlie exited the room to address the summoning. _

_Booth moved one seat closer to Brennan. "Well, no Bones. Actually, I'm recommending that your assistant work directly with Marcus. All the back and forth for Charlie limits his ability to do his job effectively. He's not a field guy, what he's good at is handling all of the moving parts. I'll be in the field, Marcus would be in the field, and Charlie would be managing operations between all groups here at HQ. _

_"So you don't want me?" Brennan asked innocently a tad hurt. _

_Booth stared at her, focused on maintaining a look of dispassion. _

_**If you only knew, Bones**._

_Again he cleared his throat, a stalling tactic that he began to use to reset his distracting thoughts about her. Seeley Booth was committed to keeping Temperance Brennan in his life – professionally. _

_Relationship-wise, he knew that she was probably more trouble than it was worth. With the earnest strides he was looking to make in his personal life – kicking the gambling habit, getting his career on track, and adhering to Rebecca's ridiculous demands about Parker – he needed what he had right now: Cam. A long distance friend with benefits. A pal, an easygoing, uncomplicated relationship with a career-focused lady who only wanted nice, easy Seeley every now and again. Sex, laughing and friendship. No time for romance. Not with Cam._

_And there sure as hell was no way was he going to try and cross that line again with Temperance Brennan. _

_Trouble with a capital "T". _

_"Dr. Brennan, we welcome your participation on cases, but it would be a waste of your talents to work directly with Marcus. Frankly, I would be best served by your insights on cases-"_

_"What? That's absurd! If he's worth his title, I'm sure that this Marcus would reap the benefits of my knowledge and direction. And you know I won't work with you. If Charlie's not the best liaison, perhaps there's another agent who could be installed – "_

_"I'm sorry, Dr. Brennan. There are no other agents that available for the leadership team for this unit."_

_"I'm sure that something can be worked out. Perhaps I should speak with your Deputy Director? The one that I met at the courthouse?"_

_Booth snorted. "By all means, you can try. However, this is not a priority issue for Deputy Director Cullen. That's why he's authorized these synergy discussions, so that we can figure it out collectively."_

_"But we exhausted all options! I cannot fathom that there is no other –_

_"Bones!" he snapped, startling Brennan out of her chatter. _

_With eyes wide, she sat quietly in the FBI conference room, momentarily alarmed that once again, Seeley Booth was proving that he was much like those people from her past who she never wanted to encounter again. _

_And though she quickly tried to mask her reaction, he saw it._

_In Brennan's eyes, Booth saw an expression that he knew too well. One that he, himself had worn. Damn it, if it didn't explain her reaction to him **that time** before. She had said she hated him, but it wasn't him she was saying it to, was she? She was reacting to someone from her past, someone who had hurt her, who scared her. And when she smacked him, she was hitting **that person**, because she was finally strong enough to defend herself. _

_In that moment, he knew. _

_But he didn't know her well enough to speak of it, he wouldn't dare. The best that he could do was to change her impression of him. All of their sparring over the past several weeks didn't mean a damn thing. _

_He sat back to create more distance between them. "Bones, Dr. Brennan, I'm sorry. Snapping at you is out of line. I didn't mean to….Well, it was not my intent to be short with you. At the courthouse, I promised you my respect. Yeah, I'm a hothead and I can be a bully, and my tone was a little too harsh. You don't deserve that. Please know that I would never hurt you. I know you have evidence to the contrary…"_

_She watched him carefully. Though discerning visual cues was far beyond her skill set, she felt comfortable and reassured – almost safe – in his presence. "I understand. I believe you." _

_Booth sighed with relief. "Okay. Good. Thank you Dr. Brennan."_

_Brennan nodded, fascinated by his irrational need to present well to her. _

_"Now listen, I just want to be honest with you here." Booth exhaled. "It's just this. Except for me, nobody wants to work with you." He braced for her next outburst._

_"Oh! That's all?" she laughed._

_Booth laughed too, surprised by her response. "I thought you'd be more upset."_

_"No, of course not! There have been many people who have declined working with me, just as I declined to work with you." She explained._

_Booth smiled sheepishly. "Good point." He sighed. "Well I guess we've come full circle then. I want to work with you, and you won't work with me."_

_Brennan's mouth curled with a mischievous grin. Perhaps we can work something out."_

_Booth returned her grin. "You are not going into the field with me. Crime scenes, sure. Interviews? No way."_

_Brennan pouted._

* * *

><p>"Thanks again for coming to this dinner with me tonight, Babe. If I secure this grant money, we may be spending Christmas in Geneva. Wouldn't that be great? Hon? Tempe? Babe?" Peter poked his head out of the bathroom door.<p>

Finally realizing that he had been speaking to her, Brennan responded. "I'm sorry, what?"

Peter raised his hands to nevermind her. This was not the first time that she tuned him out. Lately, he was striking out with the talking. Perhaps he could sway her with the promise of more sex. "C'mon, let's take a shower together, sticky lady. I'll suds you up real nice!" he sang.

Brennan bristled at the thought, although she retained the courtesy of a polite smile. She shook her head to decline. "No. We really don't have much time before your dinner. Take your shower, I'll use the guest bedroom and bathroom to get ready." She stood up from her computer, heading toward her closet to retrieve her dress.

_Ah! My Ice Princess returns._ Peter sighed, walking toward her. "No, I'll use it. No use of you hauling all your girly things back and forth between rooms." _Plus, half my stuff's already in there._ He chagrined.

"Oh, okay thank you, Peter." She stated. She watched as he grabbed his suit from the closet. As she headed toward the bathroom, Peter attempted to kiss his girlfriend on the cheek. Stiffly, she waited for him to complete his gesture of affection before abruptly stealing away to the bathroom, slamming the bathroom door.

Peter stared at the closed door, shaking his head. _This fucking shin-dig better have an open bar. _

Before heading down the hall, the flashing cursor on the laptop caught his eye. Since her hen session with Angela, every free moment that Temperance had, had been focused on that book she was writing. Curiosity overtook him as he went over to sneak a peek at her latest update.

With one more quick turn back at the bathroom door, he read her latest:

**_"I'm pretty sure I blacked out for a little bit there, Kat. That was incredible."_**

Kathy's body vibrated with laughter under the welcome weight of him. For the first time since their encounter on campus, she really looked at him. Andrew Lister was a magnificent specimen of a man. A good man. Dark, handsome, intelligent, principled; a little dangerous, perhaps – but she never felt safer.

**_"Why are you here?" she wondered, not realizing that her words were audible._**

**_He smiled, his rich brown eyes deepened almost to ebony. "Because you let me be here:" he whispered sweetly, his handing cupping her face. "It's too soon, and I know it sounds crazy, I know, but I think that this is going somewhere." _**

**_Kathy chuckled. "That does sound silly." Her hands indulged in his massive shoulders as she drew him in again for another kiss. And then another. "I was expecting something more well-reasoned from a Harvard man." She teased._**

**_"Enough with the ivy-bashing, Bone-Lady." He threatened, pressing his hips to hers suggestively. He lowered his mouth to the soft flesh of her bosom, making a trail to her neck. She arched her body into his touch. There was no close enough._**

**_"I'll bash for as long as you won't let me get my way." She threaded her hands through his dark mane, imagining the curls that would exist were it not for his close cut._**

**_"Perhaps we can work something out." he suggested, hovering over her nose-to-nose. _**

**_She smiled at him. "You have the most amazing smile." She confessed. "Stay, tonight? Please?" she asked hopefully._**

Peter smiled broadly as he closed the laptop.

_Maybe my ice princess isn't so icy after all._

* * *

><p>Charlie popped his head into Booth's office. "Hey, you got a minute?"<p>

Booth looked up from the case file in his hand. It was the tenth of the month, so today, like every tenth day of the month before that, he was reviewing all his open case files. Much to his frustration, he was in the middle of reviewing the stalled work-to-date on the Cleo Eller disappearance. For as many successes that the young agent had, that he hadn't been able to make progress with this cased tormented him.

Booth sighed. "Yeah. What's going on?"

Charlie walked into Booth's office, at which point, Booth noticed several less-than-stealth glances at him from the agents in the bullpen.

_What is it now?_ He wondered. He plopped the case file on his desk and leaned back.

"Your lady scientist wrote a book." Charlie approached Booth's desk slowly.

Booth winced, grabbing his football. "Oh shit, did she breach something from the confidentiality agreement? Fuck, Charlie! I should have known better than to trust a Squint to follow the rules!"

Charlie put his hands up. "Oh no, nothing like that! At least not that I'm aware of..."

"Okay, good!" Booth sighed as he leaned back in his chair, relaxing for a minute before tensing again. "So wait, what is it? Is it bad? The book I mean? She's a genius, you know, I bet it reads as dry as the bones she loves so much, huh? A real clunker."

Charlie shook his head. "Um, no. It's good actually. I'm halfway through it. My wife's book club picked it up last week and she didn't put it down. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dr. Brennan's picture on the nightstand, I started thumbing through it. She wrote a murder mystery. Kinda Dan Brown-y, but with forensic-science stuff, y'know?"

"Oh." Booth nodded. "Good for her." He watched as more people stole looks into his office. _What the Hell was going on?_ "Wait, am I in it? What, did she make me the murder victim? Did she kill me in some gruesome way? No! That's not punishment enough! I bet that she made me out to be a "stupid cop", character? Jesus, all because I won't take her out in the field?"

Booth watched as Charlie uncharacteristically took a seat in Booth's visitor's chair. "Oh, you're definitely in it, but…"

* * *

><p>Were it not for the fact that the event was taking place only a building away, Temperance Brennan would have easily begged off attending this evening's event. But the soft launch of her book been a surprising success and some hoity-toity named Bancroft was insistent that the Jeffersonian host a celebratory event in her honor for the full launch. Given the full-court press of her agent-assigned publicist, Dr. Goodman and Angela's co-conspiracy to ensure that she take this event seriously, she finally acquiesced, allowing for an onslaught of clothing, hair and make-up stylists to breach the sanctity of her office.<p>

_Never again_. She stewed_. Never again will I allow such mindless primping and preparation to occur in my office. _

The bargaining chip to agreeing to all of the fuss, was that Brennan wanted a little solitude before her grand entrance. The attention that Bred to the Bone was receiving had been surprising. Though she had been confident that her authoring was well-executed, she was ill-prepared for the overwhelming response. While she appreciated that others appreciated her craft, she found it all rather distracting from her true passion of forensic anthropology.

Thankfully, Peter had not been a contributing irritant, as his work had been taking him in and out of the country. His absence availed her some "breathing room", as Angela called it, and perspective. The freedom from his hover had solidified her determination that things would be ending between them soon. The volatility of their disagreements was increasing, and her ability to mitigate its impact through sex continued to decline.

She leaned against the column out into the gardens. She loved this place. The Jeffersonian was a place of comfort for her. It had been a place where she – finally – felt settlement. She looked out into the gardens that separated the Medico-Legal lab from the Jeffersonian administrative building, where the event was being held. For the evening's event, the gardens had been filled music and Japanese lanterns to encourage donators to wander and marvel at the beauty of their potential investment.

She prepared for her routine. She realized her role as one of the Jeffersonian's leading scientists, and she played her role accordingly. No longer were there check-cashers, these were check writers and Temperance needed to comport herself accordingly.

The cool air of the spring evening kissed her arms and back as she descended down outer steps of the Medico-Legal building. She gathered her wrap around her as she savored the quiet walk between buildings.

From the administrative building, Booth watched, transfixed. DC buildings were famous for their evening glow, and the Medico-Legal lab was no exception. The way that the lights hit the steps at this time of the evening and the pale blue of Brennan's dress gave her the appearance of a luminous nymph descending into the water. Silently, he watched as she seemingly floated toward his building. Like the sniper he was, he hid within the shadows, watching, admiring.

His mouth had never been so dry, the racing of his heart so fast. She was ethereal, a goddess, even – wrapped in the billowy drape of fabric against her body. As she approached the building the woman behind the specter came more into focus. Her dress had a conservative boat-neck front but left her back exposed to a belted waist. The skirt of the dress traveled to her ankles, as multiple layers of thin fabric flounced which each step. Her hair was soft curled and swept to one side.

Old Hollywood vibrated off of her, as Booth thought back to Saturday afternoon movies with Grams and Pops.

_She's a fucking goddess._ He thought. _Aphrodite. No, Athena._

_And she has no idea._

_One day_, he resolved.

One day, he would swear his grandchildren to secrecy about the day he knew his life would never be the same. One day he would hold her frail hand in his, and tell her of how she captured his heart in that moment.

One day he would see her again in the moonlight and would lose control of his ability to not kiss her.

_One day._

But for now, the precious secret of the goddess that he witnessed was his, alone. A fantasy really.

_But he knew_.

So taken was he, he momentarily forgot how to move. "Shit." He shook his head as if it would help him out of his trance. "Get it together, Seeley."

He slipped his hands into the pockets of his rented tux, finding anchor with his lighter.

_Here goes nothing. _

"Dr. Brennan." He called out.

Brennan stopped immediately. Since the back doors of the building had not yet been opened to guests, she was surprised to have company. And in recognition of the voice, she felt her chilled body warm. She could not see him at first, but soon he emerged from the darkness.

"Agent Booth." she stated as calmly as she could. Given the flimsy organza of her dress, she irrationally feared that he'd see her heart beating from her chest. At minimum, he could see the flush of her cheeks. She had often been in the presence of very handsome men, but there was something about Booth, and the cut of his tuxedo was not helping. She chided her physical reaction to him, but sighed, resigned to the fact that body chemistry couldn't be helped. Brennan's mind flashed with the sentimental memory of her mother teasing her father about leaving him for James Garner, something that had upset and confused her as a child. But in this moment, she understood her mother's threat.

"I don't want to hold you up from your party. I just wanted… wanted to see you. To congratulate you on the…you look very…." He gushed.

"You should probably stop while you're ahead." She teased, feeling her normal confidence return with his stammering. "You continue to stumble over your words when we meet initially."

She had remained in place as he walked to shorten the distance between them. "You're definitely right there." He grinned sheepishly. "But I figured out a way to change my luck in this area."

He was close now, close enough that she could detect the scent of his aftershave and spearmint on his breath. It was no longer her space, she was in his magnetic field. She wanted to step back, but she found herself desperately curious as to his next action. "How?" she asked, her face forced to tilt up given his proximity.

His hand slipped from his pocket to her cheek as he surveyed her face. _Too much eye makeup_, he concluded. _Why cloak these amazing eyes?_ Tenderly his thumb stroked her cheek as his eyes dropped to her mouth. He neglected the shimmering pink blush on her lips as he planted his mouth on hers for a brief kiss.

He pulled back to gauge her reaction. She was silent, but flecks of orange sparked in her eyes, which darkened more with every passing moment. The corner of her mouth curled with the briefest of smiles before she placed her hand on his arm. He smiled back, his other hand slipped from his left pocket and around her waist, fingers brazenly stroking the bare skin on her back. She stepped into his grip, her body warmed by the heat encased within the tuxedo. She brushed her nose against his. Booth interpreted this as an invitation to kiss her again, and he obliged.

For minutes they remained in their embrace – kissing, exploring, tasting, nibbling and sighing. Occasionally they would come up for air, but neither seemed rushed to leave their cling. At some point, they both became aware of the increased volume of the music from inside: the back entrances were opening. Brennan pushed and Booth pulled back toward a shadowy corner. As a few groups of people walked out toward the gardens, Brennan stayed in Booth's arms, her head resting on Booth's shoulder. She was pleased to find his heart racing as rapidly as was hers.

"I think your hypothesis has been proven. This the best greeting you've ever delivered." She observed, pulling back to find his face in the darkness.

Booth laughed before kissing her again. "Well, even Agent Andy can have a good idea now and again." He leaned in to kiss her again, but she pulled away.

"What do you mean?"

He had become used to her obliqueness. "Agent Andy. It's obvious that I'm him." He fixed her hair, stroking down errant strands that his excited hands had mussed. "I have to admit, I just found out about the book on Friday. I haven't had the chance to get too far into it because this was weekend that I have my so-"

"You're not Andy." Brennan clarified, stepping back from Booth. "Is that what this is about? You think that the agent in my story is you? Because he's not."

Booth laughed in disbelief. _Is she crazy? _"Okay, Bones. What's going on here? I know I've only read a part of the book, but it's incredibly obvious that Lister is based on me!"

"Don't call me Bones!" she frowned.

"See! Right there! Andy calls Kathy 'Bones' in the damn book, Bones! And she doesn't like it either."

"The why are you calling me Bones? I don't like it."

Booth took a deep breath, certain that the genius before him was off her rocker. "You don't see the connection there?" He growled as she shook her head. "Bones! I got called to Human Resources on Friday because of the book. The Bureau thinks that there was something going on between us on the Arrington case! I had to sit through an hour-long fraternization video and sign, like… twenty forms stipulating that there was no hanky panky going on. Caroline's still gonna have to review all of our testimony to see if there's any grounds for appeal!"

"Who is Caroline?" she questioned.

Booth nodded to himself. _Okay, she is nuts. _"Caroline Julian? The Federal Prosecutor? Snarky Creole lady? She put Judge Hasty away?"

Brennan shrugged her shoulders dismissively. "I have a tendency to eliminate recall of people's names when our interactions are purely transactional. That was almost eight months ago."

Booth laughed, recalling that Caroline, too was foggy on who Temperance Brennan was. "Fine! Look, Bo-, Dr. Brennan, let's just say that that I'm not Agent Andy. A lot of people think I am. **_I_** think I am, but fine! You say I'm not."

Brennan shifted uncomfortably.

"I kissed you because when I was reading the book, I thought, '**_that's_** why she doesn't want to work with me. She wants this.'"

"Well you were incorrect." She sniffed nervously.

Booth scowled, spreading his stance. "Am I? Because not more than five minutes ago, your tongue was halfway down my throat, and your hand was stationed even further south than that! Call me cocky – _pun intended_ – about my detective skills, Bones, but I'm pretty sure you want to be with me!"

Brennan searched her thoughts, finding herself unusually ill-prepared to respond. "I, uh, I-"

"There you are!" Angela called out in relief. "I have been looking everywhere for you Honey! What are you doing out- oh, hi Booth!" Angela grinned broadly until she realized how tense the scene was before her.

"Hello Angela." He said politely. "You look very pretty."

"I do, don't I?" she smiled smugly. "You're looking very, very…very dapper yourself!" she surveyed. "Except for the pink lipstick. Not your color." She beamed as Booth thumbed the color from his mouth. Turning to Brennan, Angela continued. "It definitely is yours, Honey, but it's a little smudged. Here, let me." Angela pulled out a handkerchief from her purse to wipe Brennan's face. With an emphatic arch of her eyebrow, she cautioned "We can't have Peter seeing you like this, now can we?"

The confusion spread across both Brennan and Booth's faces, obviously for different reasons. "Peter's here?" Brennan asked quietly.

Angela frowned as she pulled the gloss from her purse. "Yep, caught a redeye flight to be here for your big night. Said he wouldn't miss it for the world. He's in the atrium by the bar right now."

A concerned, slightly panicked Brennan looked at the pair. "I should go see him. Excuse me." She mumbled.

Booth and Angela watched Brennan steal away. Once she was out of their sight, Booth eyed Angela. "Peter?"

"Yeah. The boyfriend. Been together for a while. They live together."

"Boyfriend?"

"Yep." Angela smirked crossing her arms. "She didn't mention him, did she?"

Booth stared at Brennan's friend. Why is she so happy about all this? "No. Uh, no. Well, I didn't let her. I kinda just…"

Angela shook her head and laughed. "I get the picture, Booth, and from what I see, it's very hot. Nice going, Agent Andy."

Booth rubbed the back of his neck as he shook his head. "She says I'm not Agent Andy."

Angela rolled her eyes and extended her hand. "Nice to meet you Not-Andy. I'm Not-Amanda."

* * *

><p>As the evening wore on, Brennan was miserable. She was stuck at an event that she had not desired, smiling at people that she didn't care to know, with a man that she didn't care to be with by her side. Worse yet, there was a man who she wanted to be with – a man she sensed that she had hurt - who had been watching her all night. Against her will to stave off her emotions, she felt the need to speak with him and offer an explanation.<p>

"Could you please excuse me?" she asked of Peter, extricating herself from his grasp. "I will be right back." Peter kissed her cheek and watched her walk across the marble floor to Dr. Goodman and someone he didn't know, but for some reason, seemed familiar.

"Who's that?" Peter asked Zack.

Zack looked over. "That's Dr. Goodman and Agent Booth."

Peter's jaw dropped. "I know who Goodman is, Zack!" he swallowed. "That's Booth?"

Hodgins smirked, sensing Peter's surprise. "Yeah, he's the FBI guy that we worked the case with last year. Why do you ask?"

Peter stammered. "I always thought-. The way she described him, I thought he was way older, balder, fatter."

"That's surprising." Hodgins stifled a giggle (he loathed Peter). "She describes him perfectly in the book."

* * *

><p>She followed him into Goodman's office and watched him pace back and forth for minutes before he spoke.<p>

"Look, I realize that it's my own fault for assuming that you were just waiting for me to kiss you. I should have asked about your situation."

"Booth."

"I should have asked, but no! I just figured…and with the book…you kissed me! You kissed me!" he accused.

Brennan stepped toward him. "I'm sorry for our miscommunication."

Booth glared at her warily. "And the way you kissed me! Man! ….You're living with him now? You guys live together?"

Brennan fidgeted. "Well, we both travel extensively. We're rarely there at the same time."

Booth scoffed. "Just forget it. Let's just forget that kiss happened at all. From here on it, we're ABAT. All business, all the time. I was just talking to Goodman, and he told me that we'll move forward with my strategy for FBI/Medico-Legal collaboration."

"What? No! I haven't agreed to that!" Brennan snapped. "I want – "

Booth shook his head. "Look Bones, at this point I don't care what you want. I've have enough of what you want. What you want is reckless, and I already have enough crazy in my life. I will see you at the Hoover next Monday. OK, partner?"

"I have not approved this." She fumed, watching as Booth exited the office.

"Sorry that I kissed you." He sneered, not looking back. "Won't happen again."

Brennan stamped her foot in frustration as she took her turn pacing the floor. She was certain that Booth had Jedi-mind melded Dr. Goodman into agreeing with his synergy plan for spite. It was all too much. Between these new demands of the book and dealing with Booth, she felt as much control as she had when she was fifteen.

_Never again_. She had sworn to herself. She needed to figure out a way – and quickly – to regain control of her life.

"Tempe?"

Brennan looked up from her pacing to find a grim-looking Peter in the doorway. She groaned.

"We need to talk."

She blew a deep breath as she prepared for this conversation.

_I need to get away._

* * *

><p>Booth hung up with Gibson and hopped into his truck. Buying that round of drinks for Homeland Security a few weeks back was paying off. Now he had more time to get to Dulles.<p>

He'd still need to figure out this whole Angela thing out. He owed her big-time. Tipping him off that Bones was coming back from Guatemala was a coup – the past couple of months had been shitty for all of them "left behind", as the collaboration between the FBI and the Jeffersonian had basically stalled, and Booth had all but lost Cullen's ear. Fucking Agent First was so far up Cullen's ass these days, Booth was tired of checking emails for notice of a floor reorganization.

He wondered at Angela's motivation? Maybe Angela was bored with the dusty old work she was most likely doing at the Jeffersonian, she definitely seemed a bit wilder than the rest of them. Maybe she was interested in him. She was cute, a little left of his normal type, and perhaps a little_ too fun_? He had sworn off Easy Seeley since he had broken things off with Cam a month ago and things seemed to be moving forward nicely with Tessa. No need to rock the boat.

…Or maybe she was playing wingman for Bones. Too bad that ship had sailed.

The only thing on Seeley Booth's mind was the serendipity of Angela's text arriving the same morning he got notice about the remains found at Arlington. He needed Bones to get his career back on track and she owed him, taking off like that with no notice. That damn book gave her so much pull with the Jeffersonian board that even Goodman couldn't get her back from her dig. But she was back in DC and _she owed him_.

She could help him get his ducks in a row.

Whether she liked it, or not.

* * *

><p>AN2: Part Two in the Can! Now that this is done, I can return to The Seasons in the Fourth and Collide. Going to pick up Conspiracy Theory during the holiday break too.


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